The Starlet: A Casey Calvert Story

In the shadowy underbelly of Hollywood, Emma (Casey Calvert), a ruthless starlet with ice in her veins, screws over everyone for her own spotlight. She bails on stunt training, pissing off producer by being fashionably late, only to discover her new partner is Michael (Derrick Pierce)—her sleazy ex who still burns her from the inside. Her bitchy diva vibe cranks up, turning every session into a powder keg. Michael rolls up at her lavish pad for brutal stage combat drills, gut churning. Not just old flames, she swiped this role from his current squeeze, leaving him seething under a thin pro facade. Emma plays the petulant princess, pushing buttons until she swings wild, nearly smashing his nose in a twisted 'prank.' He bolts, rage boiling. A flicker of regret hits her—barely—next round. She flaunts her solo grind, all smug as hell, ego ballooning when he slips a praise. She grinds salt, mocking his moves on set and off, whispering barbs about their nasty history, her body language screaming forbidden heat. Michael snaps, eyes dark with payback lust. Fine, if he's stuck with this viper, let's spike the stakes. Wager time: mock brawl, she wins, he bends to her whims. He takes it, she's his filthy plaything. Emma smirks, cocky as sin, certain victory's hers. But the fight erupts fast and feral—she's pinned, gasping, his iron grip teasing surrender's edge, the air thick with pent-up betrayal and raw, illicit hunger.